


Mirror of Acrimony

by ardouring



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (Very Slight), Alternate Universe - Industrial Revolution, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Attempt at Worldbuilding, Betrayal, Body Horror, Civil War, Forbidden Love, M/M, Mild Gore, Oriental Science Fiction, Reincarnation, Silkpunk, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28958088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardouring/pseuds/ardouring
Summary: In the peak of the industrial revolution, an upcoming rebellion leader falls slowly in love with the healer in the cramped and dirty streets of this world.Kim Doyoung was meant to be a poorly written villain. Not meant to overtake the empire out of gratitude for the healer’s kindness in an attempt to make life easier for Qian Kun.Said healer would appreciate it, other than the fact that in this life, he’s one of the empire’s spies.Think of porcelain hands and flying sails.Think of white sails and steam machinery.Think of the gold coal that brought us here, and the love that will make everyone leave.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Qian Kun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	Mirror of Acrimony

**Author's Note:**

> me, writing this: i am going to create something so self indulgent
> 
> thank you so much for another round of little wonder, mods, writers and readers!
> 
> take this mish mash of a world of silkpunk (oriental based steam punk and sci-fi) and dokun's incredible rarepair dynamics
> 
> warning for a beheading and slight body horror (think of houseki no kuni)

In this life, Kun is a spy of the king. He sighs when he receives the notification for this world. It's another one filled with war.

He is sent to infiltrate into the townsfolk for signs of an uprising. 

Well, at least this one will be short. He’s nothing but cannon fodder.

Kun makes a semblance of a life in the cramped side streets forgotten by the boom of the industrial revolution. He is squeezed into the apothecary once the townsfolk find out he knows how to heal (“without magic, too!”), excited whispers and wary glances barely taking a second look at him before they shuffle along. Life here is busy and desperate.

Kun knows he is one of the lucky ones. When he looks at the people on the streets, what he sees are the lost and forgotten, slipped through the cracks of the ever turning wheel of industrialisation.

(When the first person dug out goldine coal, did they ever stop to think that they would be ushering in the dog-eat-dog world of steam power?

You wish to see the legacy of this golden age? Then look no further than the side streets of this country. Pry apart what lies underneath the floorboards of the rich. Look for the places untouched by all.)

The apothecary is a haven for everyone in this town. Towering shelves full of liquids and herbs disguised by the layers of cloth hanging over them, ladders reaching the roof of the impressive tower of bookshelves. Outside, the engines of the steam powered aircrafts puff out jets of hot air as the sailor boys yell for passengers, using the ropes to move themselves up and down the tall buildings.

Someone yells for him, ornaments jingling against his belt. He sighs when he sees Johnny enter the shop with a sheepish grin, barely concealed sword hidden underneath his cloak. Kun ducks under the pile of bottles and dishes, pulling out a corked bottle and a china cup.

“Thank you.” Johnny takes the cup from him and lets him pour him a glass. Diluted lotus wine. The other service of the apothecary is selling bootlegged alcohol. Still cheaper than the ones they sell in the capital, the good stuff. No one can remember the taste of whiskey anymore, and no one wants to try either.

Johnny launches into a tirade of the day’s events. The king’s guards are on the prowl for any signs of an uprising, and quick to stamp out any sparks of a revolution. More often than not, they end up being used as cheap labor by grandmothers.

The king’s guards are also the ones to ask him about (and sometimes, drops him) the injured patients. Kun’s role is to sneak around and find out about any alley fights, or any arguments and heated debates on the bar. He’s supposed to report on those arguments to the king once a week, and determine the chances of an uprising.

It’s Kun’s turn to update him. Their conversation is easily overshadowed by the sounds of the room, from pets being restrained, customers drinking and singing their tunes, and the rummaging, cutting and measuring of herbs all over.

The frantic ringing of the bells shakes the both of them out of their conversation.

The patchwork curtains are pulled apart, people swarming in, hoisting up a stretcher with an unconscious man.

“The lord has fainted! Call for a healer!” The crowds start parting away while the healers start searching for the head healer.

Kun takes a deep sigh. The villain has entered the stage.

***

Doyoung wakes up as the villain this time. Moulded into his script, perfectly stuck in place. He will go against the main character every time, and he will stick to his one-dimensional act.

In this world, he is the rich lord, controlling estate that he’s never seen.

His routine is simple: Paperwork, destroying the main character’s plans by charging exorbitant prices for taxes, more paperwork, and the cycle repeats itself daily.

To no surprise, he ends up falling sick, dramatic with sighing and all. Overworked! His poor bones!

He wakes up to soft hands holding his and a gentle smile.

“The head healer is out. You’ll have to settle for me for just a short while, okay?”

They introduce themselves to each other.

A name could be a powerful tool to destroy one’s life.

(Or let them build a life together for eternity.)

Kun fills the space between them with his presence. His words are calm, and he’s polite. He asks questions about his work. He asks if he would like tea every time he wakes up in an attempt to get rid of any awkwardness. Hospitality. Kindness. Doyoung finds himself trusting him, and he wants to get rid of what’s causing the pain on Kun’s face.

Kun has always been the figure behind the counter, back faced towards the domineering shelves of herbs. His movements are fast, and he hops up and down ladders to reach into creaky shelves that are mismatched and wearing thin to measure and mash plants he’s never ever seen in his life.

Shiny leaves. Red gnarly roots. Century dried orange peels. Steam operated machines spanning across the entire ceiling, filled with various liquids. Kun meets his curious gaze, and smiles as he tries his best to explain each plant to him in detail.

***

Kun isn’t sure why he kept Doyoung company. He thinks it’s out of pity for their roles. Canon fodder. Stuck into the same script. Unable to do anything about the plot, or they’ll risk their lives falling into the pit of the nameless and faceless.

(But Doyoung is a nice guy. He’s quick to trust people, and his smile makes him look like a charismatic leader, not some useless villain. Just stuck in unfortunate circumstances.)

***

Whenever the bell chimes, Kun expects the regular routine of customers. Tired guards after a long day of work. The elderly asking for help. Townsfolk who can’t afford to see a doctor. He’s happy to serve them, to ease their worries for another day.

What he doesn’t expect to see is the sight of a beaming Doyoung.

The tycoon bounds over to him, hands filled with boxes and parcels with a smile on his face. He’s managed to memorise every herb in those tiny shelves, and he brings even finer specimens of them all.

(The apothecary is starting to whisper. News here travels fast, when there’s no interest in life at all, people will say the unkindest words about each other between the rotting walls and beds in the apothecary.

 _It’s part of the charm!_ Johnny says. No one comes here for the charm. They come here to drink and to heal, emotionally or physically.)

Doyoung makes it a point to visit the apothecary daily. Renjun complains that he’s taking up too much time, but he never says anything about the sudden influx of machinery coming in. 

They fall into a simple routine. Doyoung discreetly starts sending supplies and clearing up the rubbish near their town. Kun has never seen so many people happy in this area, and for once he can see the pavement on the floor.

Kun tells him about the stories and the inventions of the people as a way to show their graciousness.

He talks about the compass that can sense intentions. About the imitation love potions. About the impressive army the king holds, full of self shooting arrows and unlimited steam power.

(He stops Johnny’s worries with a gentle hand on his shoulder. The king will always need more allies.)

The two of them sit in the glow of the candles, poring over ancient texts Doyoung brings over. Up close, he can smell the scent of lotus in his perfume, and the detail of his earrings and hair ornaments. Doyoung seems to glow even more under this light. This feels like comfort, and Kun wants to bask in it a little longer. He wants to forget that he’s a spy sometimes, and imagine a life where he and Doyoung can live in a peaceful rhythm like this.

He ignores the pitter patter of the heart matching with the beat of raindrops falling on the window panes.

***

“You… want to see the quarters?” Kun looks a Doyoung, hesitant look on his face. The place is cramped and small. It’s where he can finally rest after a day. He calls it _home_ , but it’s cold and dark.

He lives in the quarters above the apothecary with everyone else. Space is limited in these areas, and the only place to build is upwards. Kun climbs the rickedity ladder hidden in the corner by the shelves. When he touches the ceiling, he moves his hands around a tiny knob, ringing a tiny bell to alert the rest of them upstairs, and then proceeds to unlatch the hidden trapdoor.

He pushes the musty door open and greets everyone else inside, avoiding their wary faces when he raises a hand to help Doyoung up.

This run down place of a dormitory has been attached to the apothecary for many years now. Everyone and everything is packed into this giant attic, and space is constantly reused over and over again. The windows are always open in an attempt to get rid of the smell of rusting iron and laundry. 

He shares the place with twelve other people. Privacy is a concept when there are no walls, let alone separation.

Beds are stacked up on top of each other, serving as couches in the daytime. Patchworks of cotton and gauze hang around as privacy screens. Personal belongings are stashed into hollow bricks or hung on the hooks hammered into the walls. The drying laundry is hung above the herbs they grow personally outside the window, sheltered by scrap metal soldered to form a separate roof. And yet, despite their best efforts, the annoying mould still manages to grow into their floorboards.

There is hardly any space on the floor, or hardly any floor at all.

(You can see the whole cityline if you peek out from here, patches of fog and green beneath the windows. The humans are now living above the trees, instead of amongst them.)

The brewing machine is right next to his bed, glass pipes awkwardly crawling around the wall as mysterious liquids bubble within.

Kun refuses to look backwards. Refuses to see the look of pity, or horror. Doyoung doesn’t belong in his world, not when he shines like gold in this place carved from mould.

“Make yourself at home. Want any tea?” He asks tentatively. Anything to squash the imaginative space that is now growing between them.

The machine’s chamber is now glowing and steaming, and he can see Doyoung’s mind turning.

Kun tries to hide his amusement at how Doyoung has always stuck out between the dingy streets, and now even more so between the soot covered walls.

Doyoung shines like the radiance of a clear day.

 _Let’s get you out of here,_ he tries to say.

Doyoung’s hand grasping his arm stops him completely.

“I do hope you stocked my favourite Pu Er leaves.”

(The rustling of the sails outside block any sight of their twinning smiles.)

***

Doyoung seems to have changed lately. 

He’s always been out of Kun’s league.

This time, he feels out of his orbit.

He’s planning something. Kun isn’t sure what, but the villain is always made to fall and crash. He shelves this away under his list of things to report, the list getting longer and longer each time. He turns a blind eye to the whispers of a new leader rising to the shadows.

(He doesn’t know he’ll greatly regret this after.)

***

They stroll the streets often. The people have grown kinder, and they move faster now, finally finding the time to rest.

The streets are now bustling with people, and the shine from the night crystals attached glow brighter than ever. Everyone is bound to rub shoulders against each other, and Doyoung stares in awe at how the city is still alive in the wee hours of the night.

(“They’re mined in the caves of the Northern regions. Makes up an important part to trade, because they provide their own light without running out.”

He tries to ignore the warmth in his heart as he sees Doyoung nodding enthusiastically, scribbling down his words into a used scroll.)

The both of them sit on a flying ship for the first time. Kun clasps Doyoung’s hands out of fear, but the both of them don’t let go even while on the walk back home.

Doyoung kisses his cheek that evening.

They ignore the giggles coming from the apothecary door.

***

Whenever the bell outside the pagoda tower rings seven times, it’s Kun’s cue to discreetly leave to leave the apothecary.

The lotus flowers have started blooming. Soon it’ll be time for the main plot to commence.

The river is packed full as ever with traders and buyers swarming the area alike, displaying fresh fruit and vegetables, textiles, and recently the boom of personal weapons. The towers are looming overhead reaching into the sky, the roofs hidden by the thickness of the clouds and steam from burning. He steps onto the boat, report ready in his mind.

Instead of the towering figure of the general ready with a cup of tea, he’s met with the thudding sound of a head hitting the floor.

The blood seeps into the wooden floorboards of the boat as the general’s eyes stare coldly into his.

Oh dear. A betrayal wasn’t on the list today.

The last thing he remembers is the fragrance of Doyoung’s perfume, and the warmth of his arms, before the tranquilising scent takes over his consciousness.

***

He hears a lot of the cell. Of the revolution, of the (mostly) peaceful way the new King has taken over the nation, with his diplomacy and strategies. Of his fast and efficient killings.

The royal court has never seemed so cold, now swathed with the reds and golds of a celebration. He recognises some of the members, the old advisors of the now dead king, gritting his teeth at the sight of them.

Doyoung’s tone is ice cold when he announces Kun’s sentence.

Toss him into the lotus pool.

What a cruel death. Despite the name of the pond, the waters have been infested with sewage and vicious wildlife, vying for a taste of food. The real threat are the lotuses, born out of resentment and hatred, digging their roots and petals into the flesh of any unlucky soul.

Though, he supposes, it’s better than a public execution. This way he can rot away in the putrid waters then see the shock on the healers’ faces when they see him.

(Still, he finds himself searching desperately for Doyoung even when he’s dragged on his knees to the pool.

_Do you mean it? Do you mean all your words?_

The last he hears are the chilling sounds of the apothecary above the pond’s surface.)

***

The new king comes to save him personally, long after the sun has set. Doyoung wades through the pond in the dead of the night, feet now caked in blood and mud. 

He shines in the pale moonlight, surrounded by the purple lilies.

The moon looks beautiful tonight.

(Doyoung even more.)

He is carried in Doyoung’s arms, and from this angle he gets to see the golden embroidery on his sleeves. He realises that the original blue hue is now stained by red.

“Don’t worry.” He sighs, “The blood’s not from me.”

(They both know that it’s from the gaping hole in Kun’s arm, or at least, what is left of it. The rest of it is below the water now, buried in the sandbed of the pond. In the morning they will check for his body, and all they will see is the blackened soot from the violent thorns of the plant clinging onto its prey.

That is where he should be. Sunken in the ground, mangled piece of flesh. Bite marks from the curious fish, gaping holes from the thorns of the lotuses.

He’s not supposed to be here. Not in the arms of the man who’s succeeded in chopping the head off of his previous King.)

***

Doyoung builds him a new arm, hidden away from the eyes of the new court.

He pours porcelain into a mould of Kun’s arm, figure hunched behind the workbench, reminiscent of Kun’s figure working on a potion.

When he presents it, it’s painted with blue and gold patterns of the past dynasties. He attaches it for him with brass clasps and a welding mechanism without a word. It fits surprisingly well, and Kun finds himself trying to use the new invention.

_Why save me?_

The room is oddly silent, and Kun swears he can hear the whispers of an apology threatening to spill from both their mouths.

(Kun’s new hand is cold, but he can feel the warmth of Doyoung’s palms in his.) 

When Doyoung speaks, it’s to break the silence with cold laughter. 

“You taught me about this world. I tried to make life easier for you.”

 _I wasn’t expecting you to stand with the enemy,_ goes unsaid between the both of them.

They’ve both been betrayed in the end.

They hold onto each other’s arms, and stand there with the remnants of a broken heart.

***

_Say, have you heard of the tale of the king and the healer? They call it a love story, but at the end of the day, it’s a tragedy, isn’t it? They placed their trust in each other, they understood each other, they tried to help each other. But they ended up betraying each other._

_Can you really call a story full of lies and beguiling smiles a love story for the centuries?_

_Do you think they truly loved each other?_

**Author's Note:**

> kids, remember to think twice before completely trusting your possible enemy/lover...
> 
> this is basically a reincarnation au?? of sorts and im planning on whether to make it a series where i try my best at worldbuilding!
> 
> thank you for reading this, and i hope you leave a kudo or a comment!


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